Recovery // The Reality

It's been a rollercoaster 9 days - the wonderful highs of Annika - of falling in love with her baby smell, the little happy gulps when she's feeding, the newborn scrunch and the stare of those deep dark eyes taking everything in for the first time. Newborn days are always intense, but I can honestly say I'm enjoying every minute of her - I don't want to miss a moment.

But my recovery is much less delightful. As someone who likes to be active and involved, its been a tough week and a half. I'm missing my old energy... I'm missing the ability to sit up in bed without my husband needing to physically lift me... I'm missing the freedom to move and the ability to go from one room to another at more than a snail's pace.

I missed my eldest daughters GCSE Options night and its likely I'll miss her playing Blousey in the school production of Bugsy in a couple of weeks.

Missing milestones is hard.

A weak body is hard.

There have been more than a few tears.

But then I pause, and remember the fact that the best things are never easy. The biggest gifts in life are precious because they cost... and our little daughter is proof of that.

Pregnancy (at the end) was hard... delivery was hard... recovery is hard.

But one look at those little flushed cheeks and pursed lips and I know every bit of it is worth it. And soon enough, I'll be back on my feet.

I just need to wait it out.